Chasers of the End
by tateyamas
Summary: They still tell the story of Gensokyo in some circles of the Internet: the great AIs that ran the corporations that ran the government, and the impulsive, amoral hacker girl who brought them all to their knees. But, they say, this story doesn't have a happy ending. No one can decide if they are right. (cyberpunk AU, rated for violence/language. character tags will change.)
1. departures

**chasers of the end**

_chapter one: departures_

The first experience Seija Kijin ever has with cyberspace is when she is seventeen, in a dilapidated bar below the streets of the Village; a place so closed and cloistered off, basement level sorts, below solid concrete floors, that she thinks she is hallucinating when she opens the creaking iron door and realized everyone here is hooked up to rigs. One by one she examines them, lanky script kiddies lurched over their keyboards, their eyes wide open unmoving but mouths mumbling and fingers tapping unconsciously, faster than gunfire. There are probably ten of them, plus the nonchalant bartender, who continues wiping the edge of a glass as if trying to wear it down to sand, and they are all somewhere else. They are somewhere Seija isn't, drifting into a world she's only been able to imagine for herself, their distance apparent in the glaze of their eyes, the quiet adjusting of their pupils.

She takes one look and scowls, jealously gritting her teeth. Money has never been accessible to her, and now that she's looking for some sort of hustle, Seija feels envy eating at her in ways she once thought impossible. The units are small enough, portable as something so advanced could get, and she's not a stranger to old-fashioned, complex terminal interactions. When you have to talk directly to a system of memory and processing, something so robotic without the ease and glide of the user interface, you learn about computers from the inside out. You learn how to manipulate every corner of it, create your own fucking interface from scratch. Seija has done that, explored the entrails of a computer with delicate surgeon's hands, and with a glance around the room she sees it on them- the pilots are so _spoiled_. Cushy pseudo-hackers with no knowledge of the true form of what they're inside. They can see the brain just fine; but the veins, the limbs, the lungs and kidneys and liver are invisible under the skin of their pretty glossy systems. None of them deserve it.

She quickly resolves that by the dawn she would have one of these rigs, still warm from the buzz of another amateur programmer's hand, and the corners of her mouth turn up into a pointed, vicious smile.

Cut to: Seija, behind the bartender's counter, pressing the barrel of a pistol into the back of the man's bald head. The kids are still absorbed, still compromised. They can't see anything other than their alternate universe and maybe an inch over, but Seija doesn't blame them. It's probably much prettier down there; less gritty, and once she pulls the trigger, it'll be much less bloody.

She wonders if it's black and white down there, or if it's rendered in shiny glinting colors. She wonders if it'll be harder to adjust to than green text prompts.

She wonders this, as she slams the bartender's head into the worn granite counter, and then fires.

Only one pilot buzzes out at the kicking sound of the gun, and Seija leaps off the counter as he struggles upwards, dizzy now from his return to meatspace. She gets to him, first, and he's utterly powerless as she pistol whips him and shoves him against the brick wall, the nose of her gun prodding just under his chin. His breath gusts out against her shoulder, eyes wide like a rabbit backed into a corner.

"Still coming back to life, huh, _greenhorn_?" she grins. "Not happening." And then the trigger pulls and he's slumped over on the floor, bleeding from the neck, limbs tangling in ways that probably aren't natural. Seija checks his pulse for good measure, and silently praises her luck- the gunshot sound didn't kick anyone else out of space, either, and this rig is as good as hers. She pockets the jack, silently zips the screen inside her multipocketed hoodie, and walks back behind the counter to delete the evidence.

Bartender's still logged in- how precious. No password to unlock. She opens the terminal to open the security system app, selects the evidence, admin overrides it, and it's suddenly like she never killed anyone at all. Not here, at least, and not today.

She offers a few more prompts to the terminal before killing all the processes and deleting app histories from the past hour or so. She pulls up the order screen that all bars and restaurants have on their computers, sets the mouse back where she found it (halfway across the screen plus 200 pixels to the right, moved all the way to the top) and makes sure she takes her shoes off so she doesn't track blood everywhere.

The door flies open in a raging wind and Seija finds it so fortunate: blood on her white shoes fades back into foam in the relentless rain. She doesn't have to walk home barefoot today.

* * *

Home for Seija at this point is a dilapidated apartment at the top of an endless-seeming spiral staircase, that goes up and up against black walls covered with posters and pounding breakcore music from just outside the stair shaft. People say about the city that certain youkai gravitate to certain neighborhoods, and Seija considers this quite true. She and about 35 other amanojaku live within the echoing spine of this apartment complex, plus two crow tengu (nuisances in person, but close in her circle) and one strange youkai living on the 3rd floor that no one really knows enough about to describe even their species, much less what they do. Seija is still quite curious- a human living undercover? Or a youkai so powerful that no one even understands their presence? She doesn't even know what gender they are, or if they even have one. The person never leaves their room, not that she knows of, and she's never seen their name on the apartment records.

She slams the door, this thought still buzzing in her head, and picks up a Sharpie and Post-it note to write herself a memo. "Research that weird one in my building," it reads, in her scrawled, abrupt handwriting. "DO NOT let them find out."

After that's done, Seija opens her hoodie to find the jack hanging out from her inner pocket. A thrill of anxiety goes through her as she remembers: she's got this now, her own (well, sort of) cyberspace rig. She pulls it out from the wide pocket and sets it carefully on the desk, checking it for dents and scratches before opening the screen and admiringly stroking the edges. Grinning, she pulls out her creaking chair and falls into it with a slight crack of plastic, watching her screen flash as she wraps the cable around her right ear.

The jack is sitting there, temptingly, on the table. All she would need to do is buzz in. _And then?_ she thinks, and for some reason the thought sounds unsure, worried.

_And then,_ her mind fills out, _you're going to fuck shit up._

_Good answer,_ she thinks, and places the jack behind her ear.

* * *

_Contact._ The thumping of the repetitive, sped-up Amen breaks suddenly fade into clear, dark silence. All senses collapse into the pulsing of her heartbeat, like the sound you hear when you're under the water. Sharp, cold, transparent nodes of data tumble about beneath her, each glowing a different color. A golden stream of millions of connections divide the thrumming darkness, like a highway: people browsing the social networks, traffic high and bumper-to-bumper. Seija does a joyous loop, in midair.

Although her earthly body is lithe and athletic and doesn't deter her from her jobs, she can't help but feel free; she's cast off the layers of dense flesh that make up her amanojaku body and gained an infinite, inexhaustible lightness. Another couple of twists around herself, effortless and excited. Seija feels dizzy, drunk on freedom. She drops, then, hurtling like a comet in space, earthbound and ready.

She doesn't even know what her objective is yet; she just knows that she wants to fuck shit up, as her inner monologue put so succinctly. What that entails Seija isn't really sure herself, and seventeen might not be the best age to plunge Gensokyo City into anarchy, so for two years she learns the innards of the system. Working through loops of code that are as stubborn and frustrating as she is, watching from above as low-level youkai and neophyte humans struggle in the crowds of information, Seija finds herself ensconced in this new, glassy-eyed universe. She journeys through caverns of illegal data, traces and pranks a couple of amanojaku in her building (_so_ worth the trouble!) and learns how to unravel the protective ice around sensitive corporate databases.

This leads to a discovery. One late-night long diving and coding session, she rockets north and immediately hits high-level, puzzling labyrinths of trap-laden ice. In an instant she feels a sharp, unrelenting pain pierce her skull, and blood is running down her incorporeal forehead before she can even think. Panicking, nearly blinded by pain, she buzzes out, and immediately collapses onto the concrete floor of her apartment.

"_Augh_- fuck, what happened-"

Her hands shake as she brings her fingers to her forehead and trace a long line of warm blood running straight down the middle of her hairline. Eyes shooting open in fear, she yanks her hands away, wipes them on her cutoff shorts. She had heard about this: some ice was _lethal_. Some of it had traps upon traps, that could spiral right through your mind like a drill and destroy your conscious brain. Some of it was like a nightmare; an unseen monster ripping apart your head, one you wake up from and realize that you're still bleeding.

Even as she scrambles back up into her seat, takes a long swig of black coffee (cold by now, but _caffeine!_) and buzzes back in, the only thing on Seija's mind is: _what could be behind that wall?_

* * *

It takes days to find it again. She comes across it by accident, and takes care to slow down once she feels the familiar ache of twisting code traps in her head. Floating backwards, suddenly intensely aware of her corporeal body she's left behind, she reaches out her left index finger and pricks it deliberately on one spike.

Blood falls from it, morphing straight into data. She winces, catches the strings of code in her right hand: cyberspace DNA. _**Seija Kijin. **__**Age:**__ 17. __**Species:**__ Youkai - Amanojaku. __**Criminal Record**__: Two infractions of underage drinking. One petty theft_. (This was back when she was 14, when she stole a pair of headphones from an electronics store in the uptown Bamboo district. They only found out five months later.) Seija quickly resolves to start working on dissolving her net presence, and shoots back downwards towards the crevasses of danger and vice, Hellwards.

Gensokyo itself corresponds to its relative location in meatspace. Directly above Seija's head, where the city turns to bright and star-encrusted palaces, stands the shining castles and glimmering borders of government, most action past that invisible to average divers. Higher up is the Netherworld, the mist-covered, haunted back streets of the abandoned district that was ruined in the nuclear disaster, nothing left behind there in cyberspace but old mysterious archives and dangerous ghosts. Myouren District is the mainly empty, calm labyrinth in the center of the broken wasteland of the Netherworld. In cyberspace inexplicable visions are seen there: sailors with bottomless ladles that drown unwitting explorers, huge pink clouds leading people astray, magicians with long glowing hair distorting their forms into stars and lotuses. Seija has heard that a node exists there that you can never escape from once you enter, an endless spiral of silent code, down into an echoing grave frozen in time.

To the east, the Human Village, Mayohiga and Hakurei: citizens, average hobby programmers, stroll there on most days. Just east of center is where the social networks lie, laid out in grid patterns not unlike those of the Village. With all the hapless humans buzzing around there it could be a great place to attack, if security wasn't upped in the past few years to protect the innocent neophytes. Where the Bamboo district is in meatspace, Eientei stands instead, a monumental corporate building with ice so thick you could die from a graze. To get there you'd have to wander through endless forests of data, though legend has it a strange apparition leads potential rebels through the maze and up directly into the middle.

To the west is Youkai Mountain district, where the less mainstream news flows in erratic, disguised packages. The tengu and kappa, pioneers of alternative media and hacking respectively, live there and spend most of their time buzzed in, circulating ideas and truths that are in code languages no one but those of the Movement can decipher. While the kappa developed the tools, and the tengu spread the word, it was the amanojaku that really gave hacking its anarchist connotations, and Seija has been one of them since long ago- since cyberspace was only command lines and prompts, green text on a CRT monitor.

Two of her housemates, the talkative crow tengu couple Aya and Hatate, are actually renowned out West for their discoveries: those of the puppet government, run in secret by Gensokyo corporations, led by four legendary warring AIs. Eientei is the most famous, and outwardly the most benevolent, but Seija has heard stories of their ruthless AI leader, the Lunarian. Then there's Chireiden, based Hellwards, with an AI leader that is said to read minds- and an equally dangerous, more unpredictable sister. Yakumo is based somewhere in Mayohiga, but no one knows exactly where, and their AI, the Ancient, is said to be the most mysterious and merciless of all. The fourth corporation is unknown, unrevealed; no matter how close Aya gets, she can never unravel the mystery of what and who it is. Hatate nearly died on an intel run on Yakumo trying to get more information, and the rumor is that Aya never really got over it.

Then south- Hellwards, directly under Seija's feet, there run the caverns of illicit trade, copied archives, and incomprehensible phenomenons. Nobody goes there without a guide or at least decent knowledge of hacking, since it's so dangerous simply because it's unmonitored by government. Thieves and rogues, hidden spies, or brute-force prowlers can leap out at you, dig you into a hole of code so deep you can't see yourself, or just kill you there on the spot. The legend circulating there is that there's a group of youkai more powerful than the government down there, who dabble in cyberspace every so often and cause complete chaos. Plus Chireiden is down there, and even if you could get through the ice, _no one_ really wants to encounter a mind reading AI.

Seija has seen all of this from green text and command lines, but now that she's here, she makes the connections easily. Things that were once just ideas come to visual life; the words become sounds, the directions colored. Netherwards becomes purple, Villagewards goes yellow, Mountainwards turns green, Hellwards is a deep and disturbing red. Seija's senses are dazzled by the magic and fluidity of it all as she descends into Hell, watching crimson data nodes tumble and gyrate in the waves of black space.

Then a sharp pain in her side. Seija feels something cold digging into it, something distinctly metal. It starts to grow in size, and the pain is agonizing as the knife slides between two of her ribs and she screams, screams till her ears bulge in the silence, and buzzes out.

* * *

When she comes to, she's on the floor of her apartment, bleeding from a wound in her ribs- but it's wrapped, bandaged, and Seija touches it tentatively. It wasn't ice, she knows that; it was a much more physical, brutal pain. She looks down at her wrapped side, in confusion and silent thankfulness.

The rig makes an awful keening, crackling noise, and the whirring of the fan comes to a complete stop. Seija gapes.

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me," she screeches, roundhouse kicking the rig from the desk and letting it fall to the floor. Even from that, nothing is broken hardware-wise; these new Yasaka models are tough and portable. But Seija senses something distinctly wrong with the software.

She pulls her flip phone from her pocket and dials the only number she can think of.

"Hello, Kawashiro Repairs here. This is Nitori, how can I help?"

"'Tori."

"Seija?! Oh gosh, lemme guess: monitor problem again? You really gotta get a rig one of these days, I'm tellin' ya-"

"Nah, I got one. Jacked it off an amateur hacker. But it kicked me out, injured my side. Nothing's wrong hardware-wise, I think it's the user settings?"

"Wait, what? You got one?!"

"Yeah I just told you I did. Anyway, is there-"

"Hold up. You said you jacked it?"

"_Amano_jacked it," Seija says, with a grin. Nitori bursts into laughter.

"Okay, okay. You win this pun contest, for today. Seij? I gotta get you into my system for later this afternoon. You're free then, right? You gotta tell me all about this, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah, got it. Help me reset the user protocols and I'll be good; I have no idea how to get into this sort of hardware."

"Gotcha. At four sound good?"

"Why not."

The receiver cuts off with a solid click. Seija sits back down on the bed, holding her side with two hands, as her blood dries on the bandages and between her fingers.


	2. feedback

_chapter two: feedback_

The door to Nitori's workshop is loose on its hinges, and creaks indecisively every time it's opened- a functional entrance bell, only less glamorous. The rain outside has gotten unbearable, sheets of it falling on the asphalt, drenching the facades of neon-lit bars and cascading down corrugated-tin gutters. Rivulets of slightly acidic rain gather on Seija's cheeks, come dripping off her chin one by one as she opens the door. Nitori grins and waves her over, a buck-toothed enthusiastic smile that makes Seija huff in restrained laughter. She shrugs off her bomber jacket, pulling the rig out from her inner pocket, and pushes the hood off her head. She can still feel the buzzing of the broken rig under her arm, the noise of a doomed machine determined not to die. Sliding it over towards Nitori on the polished wood counter, she shrugs.

"Kicked me out. Pretty sure it's a user issue. But we went over this, right," she admits, pulling out the creaking wooden stool and sitting down with a wet thump.

"Yeah, it's definitely..." Nitori trails off, looks lost in thought for a moment. In the background Seija hears the repetitive throb of a house backbeat. "It's definitely that," Nitori finishes. "You probably didn't expect a script kiddie like him to have protective user protocols in place, but the new Yasaka models are all about security, so there's ways for even neophytes like him to set those up. Step-by-step guides, of course," she adds, seeing Seija's skeptical look, "but they work, and they work well. They're usually built on the assumption that no one but admin knows the admin password, however."

Seija knows where this is going. Nitori's password generator tool has saved her ass a number of times. It's a simple enough tool: a character generator, digit by digit, that finds the correct letter and then moves on. She's used it in everything from recovering a kid's forgotten password to decrypting archives of sensitive government data, before she had the accident and everything Nitori had went to shit.

"Ah. Got it. Okay, you know what to do, right? I bet they make it easy for you," she says, the slightest hint of a snicker in her voice.

"Yep," Seija monotones, and pulls up the settings dialog. There's a silence, masked only by the sound of the fierce rain on the tin roof, and then she continues. "I'm looking to take on a project. Probably wouldn't have needed this rig if I wasn't gonna do it. So. Just in case you wanted to know."

"Ooh." That seemed to catch Nitori's interest. Ever since the accident, ever since she lost her left arm and her capability to connect to cyberspace, Nitori had been eager to help the movement in any way she can. She wouldn't settle for just giving up on hacking- instead, she found a way to help the amanojaku freerunners keep it going for her. "What's this mysterious project? I wanna know, Seij, come _ooooooon-_"

"There's not much to it. I'm gonna go in, do intel runs on the main four, and fuck shit up for the government."

"But you're gonna work _for _them? That doesn't make much sense."

"I dunno either. But I've developed a virus. It's gonna take some work to get it right, but it's kinda like a footprint... let them know that Corp A has been here, only six months later when I'm done, paid and gone."

"Dangerous," Nitori says, without looking up. She's been fiddling with her wrench for the past ten minutes.

"Just the way I like it," Seija replies, a quick smile at the corner of her lip. "You got any info on how the rest of them are doing?"

"Ehh..." Nitori shrugs, looks up. "No one in your building can hack like you do. There's been some talk down in Former Hell, but it's probably just the bridge kids stirring up their rumors again. Also, the green apartment building in that one complex in Bamboo, all of them got rigs at the same time, and lots of them are amanojaku ready to rally up, but they're all kind of... kids." She pulls the corner of her mouth into an indifferent frown. "Although, now that you mention it, there's someone you might wanna watch out for. Or potentially recruit. Or both."

Seija's head snaps up from the screen. "Tell me."

"I don't know much about her, no one does. But she came around the other day to fix... something, I dunno. Looked like a hotspot or something, set up to upload a virus so it can't be traced or whatever. Dark hair, ponytail, and weird fucking wings."

"A tengu?"

"No. I don't... even know what she is. But I found out even more about her. She never looks the same. She's always changing her name, appearance, fingerprints even. No one tracks her down and she probably has some sort of list of all the faces she's ever worn. They call her UFO, as a catch-all. I heard," Nitori says, leaning in closer to Seija in a stage-whisper, "that she could be anyone, anywhere, watching you close-up, and you'd never know."

A shiver goes down Seija's spine. She presses her eyes closed, in an attempt to understand. "So wait. What does she even do?"

"Ex-government assassin, is all I know. Probably got outta there during the Schism. Everyone knew something was wrong, even the officials, so I guess she had some sort of moral obligation?"

Seija doesn't reply, only moves the cursor around absently on the screen. "I dunno if it's moral so much as just being angry and wanting revenge."

"You gotta watch out for her, anyway," Nitori says flatly, and goes back to fiddling with her wrench. "Or, alternatively, recruit her. If you can."

"You doubting me, 'Tori?"

"It's not about you. It's about her. She's... dangerous."

Seija decides not to say anything to that. She notices the worried look on Nitori's face, a sort of _maybe I shouldn't have just told you_ glance, and tentatively reaches a hand over and pats her on the back.

"Hey, let's get drinks," she offers, and Nitori slowly sits upright.

"Ehh? Really?"

"Yeah, before I change my mind. This thing's all fixed up. I'll pay you in drinks, if that's okay?"

"I mean I should really try to think more about saving my money but I just..._ really_ need a drink right now," Nitori admits, and stands up. Her bionic arm flexes, swivels around. Seija can hear the churning of gears, the needle-toothed mechanics from deep inside Nitori's elbow.

"You've done enough for one day. Let's drink and call it a night," Seija urges, before she shrugs on her jacket and flips up the hood. The door swings open in a rush of wind and rain. Nitori grabs the umbrella.

* * *

The bartender is a yamabiko, a little too short for the job, but the drinks are amazing. Nitori's a cocktail sort, but Seija traditionally just knocks back beers until she's satisfied, and sometimes takes sips of whatever Nitori's having. The good thing about having a yamabiko for a bartender, Seija thinks dimly as she finishes her second beer, is that you can always hear them over the crowd.

"'Ey! Kyouko! Can I have the usual," comes a yell from the other end of the bar. The bartender looks around quickly, and Seija finds herself glancing as well, trying to find where the loud, somewhat gruff voice came from. It belongs, she quickly finds as Kyouko rushes over, to a tall, muscular oni with swept blonde hair and a red horn on her forehead.

"Yuugi! I'll be there in a second," Kyouko chirps. Seija recognizes the name- and puts the face to it. Yuugi, the oni from Former Hell who comes up every so often with her partner Suika and causes trouble in the lower city. She's sitting right there, brandishing an empty sake cup, grinning and laughing heartily under the dusty lowlights.

"Where's Suika? She's usually around," Seija asks Nitori, after Yuugi has finally quieted down and gotten the sake she wanted. "I've never seen the two of 'em apart, y'know..."

"Suika? I heard from Aya that she's 'n a bit of trouble, hiding 'n stuff." Nitori's words begin to slur together. And then, suddenly, she starts. "Oh, _holy shit_, Seij, look behind you-"

Seija turns, slowly, almost imperceptibly. Towards the back wall, in the throbbing crowd, a flash of oddly shaped wings. Knives, almost. Red and blue.

"Is that..."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's." Nitori whispers, and Seija can hear the panic in her voice. "Seij. We gotta leave."

"No we don't, she might just be here for her own stuff, there's no way she could-"

"Remember what I told you? You never know who she is," Nitori says, and bites her lip. "Gotta leave. Somehow. There's a back entrance. You could ask Kyouko-"

A flash of black, over Seija's eyes, and she hears Nitori's voice in a startled yelp before she turns, comes face to face with her, and-

* * *

-wakes up, back alley, it's still raining. Her hands are tied. Her hands are tied, and- _where-_- where's_ Nitori,_ where's the jacket, the _rig_, _who_-

The girl raises her face and looks directly at Seija. Through the sleepy blur of her eyes she can see it, what makes everyone fear her: the direct glimpse of the unknown. Her eyes are bright red. They leave afterimages, when Seija closes hers again, and-

"I've heard about you, Kijin," the voice says, and Seija's almost surprised at how young it sounds. She starts to get a bad feeling; she starts to struggle, against the zip ties. She's unfastened them before, they're easy if you have more than two minutes, but her nails are too short. The girl is talking, again. "Wait, let me straighten this out first. I've heard about you, and I'm not here to hurt you."

"Fuck- you- let me out," Seija growls, her heels hitting the concrete in protest. Her captor shrugs.

"I told you I wasn't here to hurt you. Are you listening?"

"No," she replies, and immediately her forehead hits the brick wall. She winces, pain dripping through her nerves like hot wax, and a droplet of blood makes its way down and over her right eye. "Augh- get _off-_-"

"Shut up. Hear me out."

"Rgh," Seija groans, and twists her wrists, one around the other. "Fine. What do you want from me."

"I want to run this with you."

"You _what?_"

"I want to help," she repeats. "You can't do this sort of shit by yourself, you know that? I've heard the ideas, I know what you want and I want it too. And I know you're an amanojaku, you like to work alone. But," she says, her tone dropping, "if you're going to turn someone down 'cause of your own fucking pride, you'd best not do it to me."

"Is this one of those offers I can't refuse?"

"Yep."

"What if I," and Seija makes a face at this, turns away slightly, "what if I said I wanted you on my side anyway?"

That seems to take the girl aback. She kneels down beside Seija, undoes the zipties on her wrists- but the barrel of her gun is still pressed into Seija's side, a reminder.

"That's kinda unexpected," she says, her tone becoming a little more casual. "Don't move."

Seija obliges, as the girl takes off her own jacket and reveals her wings. Red and blue, patterned like knives or graffiti on brick walls. Arrows and blades, in contrasting colors, that flash under the rain-lit streetlight. Seija feels a thrill in her chest, something primal and adrenaline-driven. This is something, _she_ is something, so out of the ordinary that it almost seems extraterrestrial, unnatural. Her wings curl inwards, and Seija sees them twist like a flat sheet of metal, almost two-dimensional.

The girl still has the gun pressed to her ribs as she hands Seija back the rig and her jacket. "The other one's inside. Sitting next to Hoshiguma. Let's hope she didn't get crushed, that one can be a bear when she's drunk."

"Wait," Seija says, and feels the cold metal leave her side. The girl looks at her, sideways.

"What?"

"How do I know if I can trust you?"

"You can have my real name."

Seija stops, right there, in her tracks. "_Wh_-"

"Nue. Nue Houjuu."

And then, without waiting for confirmation, without even a sound, she leads Seija by the wrist back through the door of the bar and into the thumping, writhing crowd.


	3. downwards

She is wearing probably the most oddly assembled outfit Seija has ever seen: a purple cutoff tank with a cartoon UFO print, green bandages wrapped liberally around both arms (Seija's not sure if they're to cover wounds or if they're just for decoration,) and navy cargo shorts. She has her wings hidden, and Seija realizes; she's a shapeshifter youkai, maybe even the legendary nue she was named after? Seija always thought nue had a tiger face, a tanuki body, and... dragon legs? She can't remember. But then again, no one knows what nue actually look like, so it makes some sense.

As Seija watches, she's laughing at some joke without any recognizable discretion, shamelessly losing it over something Yuugi said involving a shrine maiden and a sake dish. It's almost unthinkable how free she is, how she doesn't seem to have a care in the world about concealing her identity, and Seija realizes it's because she never wears the same disguise twice. Instantly she feels a pang of jealousy, at Nue's shapeshifting and easy confidence.

"Hey, Kijin, snap outta it," comes Nue's voice from her right, bringing Seija straight out of her envious reverie. "Did you hear the one about the wolf tengu? Oh, man, Yuugi, tell her the story-"

"Nah, I told it once, I don't feel like bothering," the oni says in a drunken drawl. "But I'll tell ya about the tiny hashihime I hang out with sometimes, at the gates Hellwards. This one's a long one..."

Seija puts her chin in her hand and leans over the table, her free hand brushing the cold droplets of condensation on the side of her beer bottle. "Where's Nitori," she asks Nue, who jerks her thumb backwards towards the toilets.

"In the bathroom. She overdid it, I guess?" Nue shrugs. "Yuugi tried to talk her out of drinking too much, but..."

"She can't take as much as she used to," Seija explains. "Since the incident- since she lost her arm- her body's been really weak. You barely see her outside the workshop anymore."

"Makes sense. I mean, she's tiny already, and if you lose an arm your body weight drops a good amount, right?"

"I don't think it works like that..."

Nue gives a toothy grin, then turns back to her drink. Seija's eyes wander up, through the dusty scaffolding of the bar, into the creaking floorboards above them. She can feel the thumping of feet and the groaning of wood above her. The Oni's Hideaway, as they call the bar, is located directly under some mysterious hotel building. Oni, kappa and tengu often come here for cheap drinks and a place to talk revolution, so it's familiar enough to Seija, and the place is comfortable and loud enough for surreptitious deals to go on behind the scenes. Nitori used to go here after every job, Seija remembers, in a sort of celebration for a heist well done. The last time she ever came here in good spirits was the day before she took on the run that stole her arm and her mind, and Seija remembers it so clearly; Nitori smiling with all her teeth, throwing down glass after glass of tap beers, cheering and toasting Aya and Hatate- then looking at Seija with the most excited gaze she had ever seen on the little kappa's face, and launching into her full-speed before she could react. (Later, she was unconscious, comatose in a hospital bed, where Seija listened to the unsteady pinging of the EKG- Nitori, her brain overworked, nerves fried, arm torn off at the shoulder, and Seija tenses just thinking about it.)

Since then the Hideaway has only been a retreat for Nitori, when she gets discouraged or tired or fed up. But something feels different , Seija pinpoints, being the lanky shapeshifter youkai in the seat next to her.

"Uh, Houj-"

"Call me Nue, okay?" She cuts Seija off, quickly with an absent wave of her hand. Her eyes are half-lidded, her speech languid and off-guard. "Especially here."

"Fine. Nue. I gotta take Nitori back. When she drinks too much her body... gets in trouble. You can come too. I gotta go over some stuff with you, as well."

"That's okay," Nue says, the corner of her mouth turning up lazily. Seija can see a sharp white fang when her lips peel back like that, glinting in the dusky blacklight of the bar. For some reason, it intimidates her. "I'll meet you outside, when you get Nitori all sorted."

Seija stands up, pushing her chair back quietly, and dips through the crowd into the dark hallway where the restrooms are. She hears a sort of coughing laugh, and knocks on the metal door, only for a very woozy, very unaware Nitori to come swaying through the door from the men's restroom.

"'Tori," Seija starts, and then stops when she sees Nitori's face. "Aw, fuck. You know you can go to the women's one, people here are cool-"

"The bouncer wouldn't let me," she whines, her head sagging. "I guess I didn't do a good job of passing?"

"Aw, shush. You look fine. I'll give that fucker a piece of my mind," Seija growls, and feels the tips of her ears go red. "Go join Nue, she's waiting for us outside. I'll give the bouncer what for."

"You don't hafta..."

"You know how I feel about that kind of thing," Seija bristles. She turns sharply, towards the back entrance, while Nitori uneasily walks back to the light.

* * *

Seija comes to blows with him- the man is standing outside the back door, smoking, when she slams open the heavy door and stares him straight in the eye.

"Oy, are you that amanojaku brat?"

"Quiet," she hisses, and turns slightly on her heel before she catches the back of his head in her palm and then slams his face into the brick wall. He yowls, but Seija keeps it muffled, and presses her sharp nails into his scalp.

"So what's with ya, making my friend use the wrong restroom? Huh?" Seija spits. "I was gonna talk to the management, but bureaucracy fucks up these kinda complaints. You won't get away with doing that again, hear?"

The bouncer turns, pulling a pistol shakily, but Seija's wrist comes up from her hips before he can get it gripped and the cold black metal glints in the streetlight as it flies upwards. She catches it, presses the barrel into his chest.

"Is that clear?" she repeats, and the bouncer timidly nods his head yes. Satisfied, Seija pockets the gun. "Right," she says, and heads back towards the pulsing house beats and out through UV lights, into the streets under the rainlit skies.

* * *

Jagged edges of neon lights blur Seija's vision as she walks with Nue and a half-conscious Nitori back towards her apartment complex. Nue has her hands in the pockets of her cargo shorts (seriously, what's with her outfit anyway? Seija thinks as she walks) and is absentmindedly popping a piece of gum when Seija opens the door to the building.

"Hey, wait, lemme get something from my place quick-"

"We came all the way here!"

"This is my building," Nue says, flatly, as if it'd been so obvious the whole time. Seija's jaw drops as the pieces click: the unnamed, unidentified youkai on the third floor, her wounds bandaged when she was thrown out of cyberspace, how Nue knew where they were- how did she not get it? Seija nearly facepalms at how clear it had been, from the beginning.

But it doesn't matter much now. In fact, it makes things much easier. They file into the elevator, and Nue presses the third floor button with her pinky.

"It's just my rig. I'll catch up with you in ten," she says, as the doors slide open and then closed, the last image in Seija's mind her quickly retreating back.

* * *

She's just lying Nitori out on her bed when she hears the knock on the steel apartment door. Quietly, she pulls the covers over the small kappa and peers through the eyehole, before cracking open the door and letting Nue stride in.

"Wow. You don't clean your room at all," the youkai comments passively.

"Shut up," Seija growls. "I like working when things are messy."

"Typical amanojaku," Nue laughs and pulls up another chair at Seija's desk. "So do I get a guide to what you're even planning to do or what?"

"I'm tempted not to tell you anything, but then it wouldn't work," Seija grumbles, and pulls out her rig from the cabinet next to her desk. Setting it up, she hears the tinny whirr of fans from inside the module, and sighs in relief. Nitori did a good job, she thinks, and opens the case.

Nue's already got hers, unfolded and spread on her side. It hums with a faint tone, almost a musical note, and she flashes a prideful grin Seija's way when she notices the stare.

"It's kinda old, but way ahead," she explains, as the screen glows a faint purple color. "I got it custom from an old employer. It runs way faster than Yasakas; it's meant to outlast and outfight them."

Seija shrugs.

"Not like I care about your stupid fancy rig," she huffs. "Anyway, the gist of it is, we bring down the four corporations and their AIs. We get a job with one of them, and then- wait, I need some paper-" she grabs a notebook from the stack of books on her desk corner- "-okay, so we get an intel run done on Yakumo for the sake of, letsay, Eientei. I developed this virus file a while ago. It hides in cyberspace and lies latent for up to six months," at this she makes a scribbled note of the file and its structure- "and I can generate any authentic origin tag for it. We say it's associated with Eientei servers, and plan is we drop it somewhere into the data archives of Yakumo, point the blame back at Eientei for the damage it does to the files, and wait for shit to go down.

"Eventually, we'll find a job for Yakumo, as retaliation. We go into Eientei servers, drop the footprint, get the job done, and then get the hell out of there. I can delete our names and identities from their servers. Basically, we're causing the pillars of our puppet government to destroy each other so we don't have to." Seija finishes the note with a crude spiral diagram, tracing lines between Yakumo, Eientei, Chireiden, and '?' with quick and messy strokes. "That's how it works. You should check out the file."

"If you can send me it-"

"Nah," Seija says, "just watch." And she hooks the cable behind her ear, and buzzes in, thrown directly into a deep and chilly blackness.

* * *

She waits, but Nue's beside her in a flash, sideswept hair prickling in the cold, liquid darkness. Seija nods in quiet recognition. Nue does a couple of backflips, and then floats absentmindedly around for a bit before Seija gets the chat system working.

**xboxdestroyer101: **we good?  
**inverse-monarchy: **what the fucks that chathandle**  
xboxdestroyer101: **oh, shit. let me change that**  
xboxdestroyer101 is now HeianAlien!  
HeianAlien:** left it up from a previous job. i have this weird handle changer program. it's a little thingy that changes my handle to the name of the 143rd passerby you saw last time you logged in. it looks different to everyone.**  
inverse-monarchy: **what i wanna know is where was i that i passed by some dumb xbox player. youre like 12 you shouldnt be in the medium**  
HeianAlien: **can't stop the uprising, man. they might be the next big revolutionary.  
inverse-monarchy: like fuck they will with a handle like that

Nue sticks her tongue out. Seija sighs, inaudibly, and faces Hellwards.

**inverse-monarchy: **so find me a node and ill shwo you what it does  
**inverse-monarchy: ***show  
**HeianAlien: **damn, kijin, i knew what you meant the first time.**  
inverse-monarchy: **stfu and find me a node

She winks. _Winks!_ And then dives straight down, into blackness. The throbbing veins of data highways trace upwards from here, and all the light is above them. The further Nue falls, the darker and more red everything turns; all the sparkling data is dyed in blood-red halflight, and Seija's frustration melts away as she feels the artificial wind separate each individual strand of her hair, the free-falling thrill of the digital underworld.

She always gets like this, going Hellwards; down here everything is limitless and intimidating and everything has teeth. She's weightless, formless, just data, algorithms of youkai DNA contorting in space, something fragile and breakable, and the danger in Hell amps up all her senses by a multiplier of ten, making things buzz and flow and every movement she makes so much more important. Seija lives for this, for the adrenaline, for the unknown. Her lack of form makes everything she feels more intense, since there's only a brain and a heart to absorb the experiences, no skin blocking the emotional responses. She lets out an involuntary whoop, and Nue floats downwards towards a red, ice-covered node.

**HeianAlien:** good?  
**inverse-monarchy:** let me get the ice off it

Seija scrapes away at the traps, mind buzzing with riddle answers and possibilities. Probability swirls and visualizes, usually formless concepts become visible here in the suspended airs of the Medium. With practiced ease she swipes down on a line of code, eats away at it with her own algorithms. Nue watches the ice melt.

Two minutes later she nods to Nue, and presses the document she's holding against the freed red glassy surface. The virus, like everything else, is visible. It comes as a piece of paper, with a footprint design on the front. Holding it to the node, she motions to Nue to back away.

**inverse-monarchy:** ok im gna tell it when it has to blow up and it will  
**HeianAlien**: you can make it do that?  
**inverse-monarchy**: yea it starts working when i tell it to, i have remote command over it too

Seija speaks out a few commands. They're absorbed into the thick darkness, but they seem to have been accepted by something, as just thirty seconds later the node bursts open and outwards, jagged glass edges spraying out around it, threads of sensitive data spiraling up like wisps of smoke from the inside. Nue starts to clap. Seija carefully pulls the information out from the broken glass, holds it straight out in front of her.

**HeianAlien:** anything important?  
**inverse-monarchy:** wasnt rly expecting anythign since this was a test run but its mostly employer records from some old company before the schism  
**HeianAlien:** i have a feeling we could probably use those! do you have a personal archive or whatever?  
**inverse-monarchy:** yea its up back in my apt spawn point ill bring it up there  
**inverse-monarchy:** any questions  
**HeianAlien:** nope!  
**inverse-monarchy:** ok im buzzin out once i get back up there you can do that whenever just come up soon  
**HeianAlien:** whatever you say )  
**inverse-monarchy has disconnected!**

* * *

Seija sits straight up, in meatspace, her mind spinning. There's excitement in her chest, fast-paced and throbbing. She looks around, waits for Nue to buzz out; Nitori's still in bed, though her face has stopped looking quite so pale and she looks to be sleeping well. There's a change, coming through the distance as clouds; it rings in the air with a hum, like the wind on a mountain before a storm. Alive and thrumming with electricity, she feels it coming up over the hill, and just then Nue sits up, disconnecting and stretching backwards in an impressive yawn.

"Took you long enough," Seija grumbles, as Nue slumps over her own knees and makes another long yawning sound.

"I just haven't been Hellwards in a while, is all," Nue retaliates lightly. "Most of my work's been around the Village, which is why I got so excited. And don't tell me you weren't too!"

"Was not," Seija says, under her breath.

"Liar."

"I'm not that naive."

"Don't deny it. I _saw_ you!"

"Shut up-"

Seija knocks Nue's chair over. She falls to the concrete floor, bracing her head with her hands, and starts laughing. Seija follows her, snarling and pushing against her hands, and soon they're in a deadlock, scuffling aimlessly on the floor, tugging each other around- Nue is laughing, and Seija stops growling and starts grinning instead, and they're tussling over the headphones Nue dropped on the floor before a sudden noise snaps Seija out of it and Nitori is sitting upright, eyes closed, on the bed.

"Oh," Seija stammers, and gets up, brushes herself off. She never realized how much dust is on her floor- her back has nearly gone grey with it- and Nue stands up as well, straighter than usual, blinking obliviously. Seija clenches her teeth, hands Nue her headphones and her rig, and nods stiffly as the smaller youkai turns and waves to her at the door.

"Thanks," Nue says. Seija scowls, looks down at her feet.

"Yeah," she replies, more a grunt than an actual word, but as the door slides closed and the auto-lock mechanism does its metallic click, she drops her hands to her sides and keeps looking, through the peephole, watching Nue's shadow fade into the dark hallway.

The thrumming energy disappears from the room. Seija puzzles over this for a while until she realizes: Nue took it with her.


	4. launch

Seija has done well for herself, before the actual mission; she's taken her time spreading the word, making herself known in the government cyberdistricts as high-profile and willing to take potentially fatal jobs, everything that one of the corporate monoliths would want in a hacker mercenary. Of course, she does expect it to take some time, and she predicts zero hour will be a month or so away- which is why, exactly three days and five hours after she finishes setting up in the medium, she is so taken aback when she gets a job offer from Eientei.

It's all bureaucratic language, the pretentious shit Seija despises, and it makes her lips curl in distaste just from reading it- but she has a job. _They have a job!_ And this is going to be the first step in a long campaign, the ripple in the still pond that causes a wave of revolution. She's one step closer!- so the taste of satisfaction and excitement in her mouth overrides any of the disgust she felt from the emails. Immediately, Seija scrambles up to her feet, grabs her phone, opens the chat client.

Nue is probably online, just invisible, so she tests it out first just in case. The ping echoes through the darkened room.

**inverse-monarchy**: hey are you here or do i gotta track you down

It takes a minute- during which Seija puzzles over if she should have just gone downstairs after all- for Nue to respond.

**HeianAlien**: no need! i'm right here, champ )  
**inverse-monarchy**: why do you call me that i dont get it  
**HeianAlien**: i do this with everyone! get used to it, kijin.  
**inverse-monarchy**: ffs

Seija sighs, flops onto the rickety mattress. She's already a bit irritated, but this is different; Nue seems to like getting a rise out of her, and what's more, she enjoys it herself. In some weird, un-amanojaku-like way: Nue tells her she only does this to people she likes, so she should be kind of angry, right? That Nue would like her, she's supposed to hate that. But it's almost satisfying.  
It's harmless banter, she recognizes, and shrugs it off for now. Not a big deal.

**HeianAlien:** anyway, what did you want to tell me? you only message me when you've got news so  
**inverse-monarchy:** why else would i msg you tho. and yea. we got news  
**HeianAlien:** oh, shut up. tell me already!  
**inverse-monarchy:** i got us a job for eientei

A pause. Then, the signature "HeianAlien is typing..." and Seija finds herself on the balls of her feet rocking back and forth as she awaits the answer.

**HeianAlien**: YYYYYYYYYYYTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! ! YES YES YES! FUCKIN YEAH!

Seija stifles a barking laugh. It's so ridiculously off-kilter, so unmistakably Nue. She's typing faster than before.

**inverse-monarchy**: you sound hyped  
**HeianAlien**: fuck yea i am! hype train leavin the station! ALL ABOARD  
**inverse-monarchy**: houjuu you better be actually serious about this job or ill kill you  
**HeianAlien**: don't get me wrong i'm serious as hell! i'm just so fucking excited you have no idea  
**inverse-monarchy**: im glad for that? i guess  
**HeianAlien**: you better be! anyway, when's zero hour, what do we need for prep, how much are we getting paid, danger level, uhh what should i bring? snacks?  
**inverse-monarchy**: jfc  
**inverse-monarchy**: lemme send you the thing i got from eientei  
**inverse-monarchy**: as for snax i think i just want a fuckin clif bar  
**HeianAlien**: roger that.

Seija logs off, then writes a reply to the email- it's got to be one of the most contrived emails she's ever had to do, mainly because her vocabulary doesn't quite fit with the sort of diplomatic language that's used in these sort of interactions. A good thirty minutes later, she hears a distinctive ping from her email client, and reads through the reply about four times. After a little puzzling and a lot of data refining, she makes a quick rundown of the mission in an open note on her phone. It goes something like this:

_- Eientei drops us off at zero hour in Mayohiga _  
_- Building is only visible in cyberspace so we get in through the medium, on buzzout we'll be inside the building _  
_- Purpose is the stock data/passwords located in Yakumo, they mainly concern Eientei _  
_- I browse around digitally, get through protective ice, locate the files, Nue does meatspace damage control/drops anyone that tries to get in our way _  
_- We get the files, make sure not to cross the AI, I hack in and make a remote copy of the files for safekeeping in our own archive, we don't open the ones we're giving to Eientei _  
_- On our way out I drop the footprint _  
_- Profit? _  
_- Yeah like more than 200k if we survive that is _

She protects the file, then sends it to Nue, an excitement prickly and growing in her stomach. The phrase "if we survive that is" resonates with her, somehow- she's not sure if that means she's determined to get out alive, or that she wants, somehow, to die.

* * *

Two before zero hour, Nue meets her at her apartment, carrying the promised Clif bars in the pocket of a black and red patterned hoodie. She's wearing striped skintight leggings (red and blue, mismatched as usual) and sneakers otherwise, and her wings are poking out from the holes in the back of the sweater. She pulls at her beanie, somewhat nonchalantly.

"We got time to plan, I guess," she yawns, falling backward onto Seija's bed, which emits a pained-sounding creak as she sinks into the mattress. "I got the list, uhh, what should I bring in terms of weapon?"

"Preferably something non-lethal. Uhh, maybe check what your rounds are, if they're synaptic you should be fine. Either that or regulars in case shit really goes wrong."

"I can bring both?"

"Yeah, sure, let's just go with that." Seija yanks open one of her desk drawers, rifles through it to pull out a box of ammunition. "Take the blue ones and the black ones but load the blue ones first, make sure you don't kill anyone unless absolutely necessary."

"Right." Nue nods, flipping open the lid of the box and inserting a cartridge into the pistol she has holstered at her hip. "Hey, how are you going to deal with security cameras?"

"I can jam the communications, although they'll probably figure out that something's going on... if that happens I'll need you for backup. Preferably, we want to make it look like this never happened. That means no casualties and no big explosions, I don't wanna deal with that shit," Seija drawls. She kicks the filing cabinet closed, locks it with a swipe of her finger. Her body feels light, almost immaterial, like she's perfectly in control of every movement. _Good,_ she thinks. _Control is what I want._ Ever since Seija first slipped into the world of cyber-anarchy and revolutionaries, she's had a fascination, an obsession with being the master of her own body and mind. She has refused to accept her limitations, punched straight through them like flimsy cardboard, and has developed her own abilities so keenly that now if there are any mistakes on a job, they're guaranteed not to be hers.

Nue groans from the back of her throat. "Aww, but I like explosions," she fake-pouts, swinging around quick to face Seija.

"Explosions will come later," Seija assures her, before tweaking the dials on her headset. From here she can buzz in quietly and efficiently, her rig set up against her body in the hidden pockets of her windbreaker. "I actually had no idea that the entrance to meatspace Yakumo was in cyberspace. I always thought that was kinda weird, since Yakumo does a lot of shit openly, they'd be all cloistered and hidden like that..."

"I bet if any other AI ran it, it'd be a different story," Nue shrugs. "The Ancient pulls shit like that all the time. And at the last minute too."

"Speaking of, aren't Aya and Hatate going up to the Netherworld this week too?"

Nue is agape. "What? I thought Aya swore off that project."

"Yeah, I did too," Seija admits, brushing some dust off her upper arm. "But she's had enough of moping around. I bet they'll come back with something or other. They're the closest to the truth about the fourth AI, and fuck if they don't get it before they die."

"That's kind of a scary way to put it," Nue says. She starts to shapeshift, then- Seija's never seen her really do it, but it's fascinating and somewhat gruesome, to see her body distort, grow taller, changing the color and length of her hair. Seija looks away, and the next time she sees Nue, the usually short winged youkai has become a tall, brown-haired tengu-looking girl- only for a second, though, before she wavers back into her original form. "Sorry," she adds. "You'll see me as me. Just gotta make sure no one else does. My form changes depending on the person."

Seija shrugs, finally clipping her pistol to her hip belt, and stretches upwards. "It's the truth of the business," she answers. "Alright, it takes us an hour from here- maybe?- to get to Eientei. They're going to drop us off in Mayohiga by the next hour. Zero hour is at exactly 02:00 AM. We get the job done before 05:00 when the actual non-automated security staff takes over, and we're good to go. Any questions?"

"Are we going to make it?"

Seija looks to the side, then wipes her brow with the back of her hand. She hadn't even noticed she was sweating. "The odds are slightly on our side. That doesn't mean it'll be a sure show. But hey," she says, and a new energy bubbles up in her heart- they're going to _do it_. They're going to go in there, fuck shit up, and start bringing down the pillars, one by fucking one.

"We can live cowards or die rebels. And I dunno about you, but I don't wanna fight a battle I know I'm gonna win."

* * *

They arrive at Eientei right on time, and are escorted into a meeting room, sat between two guards facing the head of the table. A flickering sort of mirage, sitting in the great chair, but the form turns quickly solid, less hologram, more skin and bones. Seija looks on, and feels her body go numb with the thrill. _That's her,_ she thinks, in a fit of adrenaline. _That's her, the commanding AI_.

"Welcome to Eientei," the woman says, a gentle and powerful low voice. Seija recognizes it as the voice of someone wise, influential, and dangerous. "I hope you have made preparations?"

"We have," Seija says, nodding. Her fingers curl into the hem of her shirt; this presence is so strong, so electrifying.

"Very well. I am the entity running this corporation, known as the Lunarian. I hope you know that this is a high-profile job, and failure almost certainly means death, so I came in person to go over it with you." She twists a lock of silver hair around a perfectly manicured finger. Her smile is red and sharp as stained glass. "The risk is great; the reward is even greater. Information you bring back to us is not part of your reward, however, and if there is any damage done to the files I will not hesitate to terminate you immediately, no matter how well the operation goes."

"Understood," comes Seija's voice from her throat. It's stable and consistent, much unlike her state of mind right now; her heart is throbbing so hard against her ribcage that it threatens to break. Just _looking_ at the Lunarian is unsettling- such a sophisticated array of code and responses, it doesn't even seem mechanical at all. The way she moves, slowly and languidly, her undistorted voice and measured words: none of these are characteristics of any artificial intelligence Seija has ever encountered before. Small gestures, her cadence firm and varied. It's like- and Seija thinks this with complete horror in her heart- she was _alive_ once.

"Security personnel will escort you to the drop location in Mayohiga now. We expect only the best," the Lunarian says, and waves as Seija and Nue stand up and walk through the door.

* * *

Rain mingles in double helixes on the windows of the car, as Seija stares out and into the city. Flashing neon lights, red brake signals in front of them, all bring color to the streaks of rainwater on the tinted glass. Nue is saying nothing, looking down at her thumbs. Seija can feel her nerves from across the cushioned seats; she's not much better, either. Her ears are burning at the tips, a sure sign of stress, and her fingers are shaking the slightest bit. She watches as the cityscape blurs into cones and rods of motion, colors like melting wax all down her vision. Her hands are numb, her eyes rapidly blinking. She is moving. She is _ready_.

The car pulls to a stop at the corner of Hakurei and 71st, and the automatic doors open. Seija stands up, pulls her jacket over her shoulders. Nue comes around from the other side, stands next to her in the rain. Her hand, mostly covered in her sleeve, brushes Seija's ever so lightly- whether purposefully or accidentally, she can't tell, but it's somewhat reassuring.

They sit down, together, under the awning of an old closed-down antique shop. The rain pounds above them, but only drops fall now on Seija's shoes, sticking out slightly from under the shelter. Nue waits for the security car to drive off, and then strings the jack behind her ear. Seija does this as well, their practiced, timed movements almost synchronized. It brings stability, calm to the process.

Nue pulls her hood up, turns her head to Seija.

"Are you ready?" Seija asks, her voice a firm whisper over the sound of the rain.

"I'm ready," Nue affirms. And, as one, in perfect synchronicity, they pull the connector towards the jack. Seija hesitates, but only for a stuttering half-second before she presses hard down, and then- _then_- she's flying.


	5. mobility

And then, silence.

The clamor of the streets- trucks speeding and screeching on the slippery roads, shouts and songs, the raucous chanting of drunk youkai outside the bar- dissolves as easily as melting butter. Seija feels her body weight disappear, and the thrill runs through her, the feeling she gets before any fall. Nue follows, carves an opening through the thick darkness, digging her nails into the edges of the walls for stability. The cyberspace night throbs in specks of neon and oceans of black.

Seija sees Nue's lips moving, pointing toward a shape in the near distance. The outline of a door, almost indistinguishable from the rest of the darkness, and Seija has to squint to see it- Nue's eyes are sharp, pointed scanners, watchful and more dangerous in the dark. Seija signals to Nue to bring up the chat client.

**inverse-monarchy**: seriously houjuu how do you even see that shit  
**HeianAlien**: nue eyes, motherfucker. pity a lil amanojaku like you don't have them  
**inverse-monarchy**: stfu or ill fuckin cut yr throat  
**HeianAlien**: whoa.

Seija huffs, turns her attention away from the chat client to pull up another program. They're heading straight towards the door in the wall, and Nue leans forward as she falls, the space around them twisting and warping. Seija watches Nue from behind, how she loops around herself in flight, her body even more lithe and form distorting in midair, and a tiny ball of jealousy wells up in her throat. She swallows it down, as they reach the door- there are more important things to worry about.

A pinging, from her chat window.

**HeianAlien**: okay the Lunarian gave me data on two of the corp workers we can masquerade as to get in, but you can just mask your presence with shit right?  
**inverse-monarchy**: yeah your the only one who has to shapeshift or w/e  
**inverse-monarchy**: *you're  
**inverse-monarchy**: gdi

She gives up on the typos (Nue is smiling evilly, and she can almost hear her from the soundlessness in the medium) and starts wrapping herself in the fabric she spins. Here in cyberspace viruses have forms, proxies are clothes, cloaks you can pull around yourself and disappear in. She shrugs on the sheer fabric- of course, there's no weight or sensation to it, just a sudden loss of self-perception.

**inverse-monarchy**: jfc i forgot how weird this feels  
**HeianAlien**: ahaha.  
**inverse-monarchy**: its like you dont know where your body is all of a sudden and you freak out for like half a second like where the fuck are my feet?  
**HeianAlien**: i would ask to try it on, but we have better things to do.  
**inverse-monarchy**: seriously what the fuck happende to my fucki g feet

Nue makes a shrugging motion, then turns back to the door. It's barely visible, save for a faintly glowing purplish outline around the seal of the doorframe. Seija watches as Nue's body distorts, dissolves into pixels and reassembles, and she can't help but gape every time she witnesses it- shapeshifting is so weird, she thinks. She hasn't known any other way to conceal her identity and actions other than the proxies, and being able to shed an identity like a snakeskin and step fluidly into a new one is still so fascinating. She wonders if this is just a nue thing, or a Nue thing.

Nue finishes transforming, and then presses her thumb to the scanner. A series of blips echoes in the darkness, sounding so far away. With a gesture of frustration, she opens her eye wide and faces the tiny device in the door. A retina scan? Not just that, Seija thinks- a literal cyber DNA scan. Nue gets away with it, though, flying colors. She holds the door and Seija follows, into a violet light.

**HeianAlien**: okay, the Lunarian told me to buzz out when we see the metal detectors, which are... right there. you're staying in the medium, you can track my shadow while i'm walking in meatspace. uh, what else? oh, she said to crack all the doors before i try to go in, they do some weird virus shit in cyberspace that carries over to meatspace which can basically kill you when you walk in so... don't kill me  
**inverse-monarchy**: cant promise you anything but ill try  
**HeianAlien**: i'll hold you to that, kijin! now go!

Nue buzzes out, leaving Seija floating alone in the sea of data. Suddenly, she feels lonely, inexplicably and utterly lonely. Her fists clench, one after the other, and she sees Nue's shadow move up to where the scanners are. They're shaped similarly to the ones in meatspace, but she can see the code work from here, and knows all the patterns; it's not just a metal detector, it's an identity scan that they pass off as just regular security. The data scrambles, searching for a match as Nue's shadow slips through the scanner- Seija is half-afraid to even _look_- but a pleased chime from the code, and Nue slides through. Seija carves an opening, hammers through the ice around the door.

**HeianAlien**: ok this one needs security clearance of 2 before you can get through, this means you probably need to figure out what the clearances entail...?  
**inverse-monarchy**: i came ready for this i dug up databases  
**inverse-monarchy**: i can attach the clearance tags to you, anythign below 2 gets hit w a neurotoxin  
**HeianAlien**: damn. yakumo is kinda intimidating.  
**inverse-monarchy**: ive heard eientei is worse abt the neurotoxins tho they have all the medical shit  
**HeianAlien**: noted. can you crack the security from up there or do you have to throw me the clearance?  
**inverse-monarchy**: i got it from here but by level 4 its gna be safer just to give you the thing

Seija's gloved hands start to dismantle the strings of code. It's a simple enough line- clearance check, if unsatisfactory it goes straight to the air systems which are basically all over the room, satisfactory it goes through, but the code is so open and unprotected that it's almost laughable. Seija picks them apart with nimble fingers and leaves the connecting tag hanging open so she can close it back up later.

Then she remembers something, and her heart drops.

**inverse-monarchy**: shit houjuu can you wai tthere i gotta deal w the security systems?  
**HeianAlien**: fuck. okay let me just  
**HeianAlien**: you know what  
**HeianAlien**: okay.  
**inverse-monarchy**: dont make that face ill be w you in a moment, pissbaby  
**HeianAlien**: did you just call me a pissbaby? WOW kijin that is GOLD  
**inverse-monarchy**: QUIT YR WHINING AND HIDE FFS

Nue darts behind a desk. Seija near-screams in frustration, and pores through walls of ice to get to the security cameras. Some of it is beyond her grasp, at the moment: she can disable the cameras now, but she doesn't have the means to delete the data already recorded just yet. She makes a mental note to do the job quickly so she can get back early enough to take out the footage.

She runs her fingers down a strand of code, parts it with her fingernail. She can feel blood inside her gloves, and notices that the ice here is built to cut, to leave incriminating material. _It got through my glove, but_, Seija reassures herself, _my blood isn't ice_, and she will leave no trace even if her hands are mutilated by the time she gets out.

**inverse-monarchy**: ow ok im done we can go  
**HeianAlien**: that took you like 40 seconds  
**inverse-monarchy**: time passes slower in the medium  
**HeianAlien**: no it doesn't! it passes faster doesn't it!  
**inverse-monarchy**: lmao

Seija does a couple of midair turns, gleefully, before she hovers back in place again.

**inverse-monarchy**: ok ill take you thru this gate  
**HeianAlien**: clearance level?  
**inverse-monarchy**: 3 so i can dismantle it too its just the 4+ we need to worry abt  
**HeianAlien**: roger

She watches Nue's shadow stand before the gate, then darts above it and starts to focus in. This one has more security, so it's a little more complicated to get into, but once the ice is gone it should be just as easy to deactivate. She pricks her fingers on the ice again, feels warm blood drip in the webbing of her hands. Quietly, she tightens the straps around her wrists, and presses her hands together before she sets herself back to work.

It takes her a little longer, because this ice has a bit of a mind game going for it, and she undoes one trap to find that it circles back on itself into a loop of code. Seija takes this as a challenge, and grins wickedly, thrusts her hands hard into the opening of the loop. The pain rips through her arms, and she bites down on her lip, but she's pulling out the trap from the inner workings of the code and then- with a shatter of glass, it falls away.

This one's gonna take some work to fix. Seija adds another mental note to her lists of things to leave time for.

**inverse-monarchy**: ok thats a go, the next two doors to the records room are 4 and 5 respectively so we might have some trouble, get in the elevator next  
**HeianAlien**: that took like... twice as long  
**inverse-monarchy**: good, bc the code was 8 times as complicated  
**HeianAlien**:

Nue leaves the text box blank, then grins- Seija can feel it from her shadow- and raises a playful middle finger. Seija nearly hits her own face.

**HeianAlien**: fuck you, kijin  
**inverse-monarchy**: not now  
**inverse-monarchy**: later mb  
**HeianAlien**: !

With that, Nue turns quick on her heels and marches herself through the gate. Seija counts this as a small victory, and follows Nue's shadow into the elevator. A quick look through the cubic room reveals that even the elevator tracks history, and Seija half-laughs.

**inverse-monarchy**: wait for like 30 sec after you get out this elevator tracks ppl who travel in it so i gotta do the thing  
**HeianAlien**: okay

The door opens to the fifth floor, and Seija drifts into the elevator shaft. It only takes a few pulls and switches before she has that cracked wide open- no one remembers to protect the elevator history, of all things- and she takes out the last travel and leaves the tag unsealed just like before. While it's like this, nothing will be recorded. She darts out of the shaft and follows Nue's quiet walk to the clearance door.

**inverse-monarchy**: im gna drop the tag here, lets see if i can make it into an actual file  
**HeianAlien**: would it be easier if i just buzzed back in to pick it up?  
**inverse-monarchy**: that sounds a lil better tbh get in here

Nue's form appears above her, the look on her face just as irreverent and mischievous as always. She sticks out her tongue, and Seija hands her a string of code.

**inverse-monarchy**: put that in yr pocket its basically a clearance card  
**HeianAlien**: sick

-And just like that, she's gone, simply a shadow again. Seija watches with bated breath as Nue's shadow faces the door-_ what if she had coded it wrong? what if it was a different clearance card? what if it didn't work, and Nue's brains would get blown out?_-She doesn't want Nue to get her brains blown out-

Nue slides through the door.

Seija sighs, harder and deeper than she's probably ever done before, and follows her closely, protectively, into the documents room. There, she floats just as awed as Nue stands, looking up, and up, and up. The mountains of data, millions of archives scaling up to an unplaceable ceiling, all purple and flashing and dark, vaults covered in glimmering thick ice, a tower of data that reaches the sky.

Seija doesn't even know where to look.

As if answering her question, a ping from her chat client.

**HeianAlien**: the Lunarian said the data she needs is in data files ETR-100 through 110. the place is set up like a grid, X is length Y is width and Z is depth, so that would be in row E column T floor R  
**HeianAlien**: it just takes a fly up there in the medium and they're all labeled, the files are in capsules that are stored in huge vaults like the ones you're seeing right now  
**inverse-monarchy**: oh right, im laying out the grid and it makes sense  
**inverse-monarchy**: there are 26 levels then i guess  
**HeianAlien**: yeah it's basically just a 26x26x26 cube  
**inverse-monarchy**: shit  
**inverse-monarchy:** kinda looks cool as hell tho  
**HeianAlien**: you ready? you can drop the files

Seija takes a moment to survey her surroundings. Endless streams of ones and zeros, packed together in tight capsules of data, sealed in huge glimmering safelike vaults, secrets she's probably never been able to comprehend. A warehouse of mysteries, quiet and darkly lit, and there's absolutely nothing to stop her.  
_Nothing_, Seija thinks gleefully, _nothing at all._

**inverse-monarchy**: aight lets do this shit

And they rocket upwards, in perfect parity- Seija drifts along Nue's shadow, something strangely material to her now- head to head grinning, fists hard, minds ready, eyes and bodies filled with fire.


	6. fluoresce

Seija had forgotten until now what it was like to be totally, completely unattached.

No strings holding her back, no weight on her bones, absolutely liberated from her body and from her responsibility. She has no gravity- the medium feels endless, boundaries fading out lightyears away somewhere, the distant walls of cyberspace echoing her heartbeat. Effortlessly upwards, alongside Nue's silhouette, Seija ascends, watching the layers of vaults as she searches.

Nue finds it before she does- those goddamn eyes, Seija thinks enviously- the entrance to floor R, where the vault doors line up one after the other. Seija watches her shadow point in, towards the left, gesturing wildly. Nue looks as excited as ever, and she doesn't even need to see her face to know- just like Seija, she gets her thrills from being _useful_, from unlocking something no one else can, from doing something so difficult that just cracking the surface would be an accomplishment for most. Seija nods, briefly, and pulls up the chat client.

**inverse-monarchy:** yea so  
**inverse-monarchy:** are we goin in or what?  
**HeianAlien:** hold on just a second!  
**inverse-monarchy:** jfc what did you do this time  
**HeianAlien:** i didn't do anything! except i think i might have hurt a wing

Seija's jaw drops. She never heard of _this_ kind of problem. Sure, Nue's a bit frail-looking, but she's also strong as fuck, and there's never been any notice of her wings taking damage- aren't they immaterial or something? or fix themselves automatically, since Nue's a shapeshifter? She quirks an eyebrow upward, thinking it over.

**inverse-monarchy:** which part of it?  
**HeianAlien:** it's the center arrow one dunno why...  
**HeianAlien:** i can still fly though.  
**inverse-monarchy:** tough it out we can fix it when we get back  
**HeianAlien:** fine but if i get shot down or some shit you're taking the blame for my death, kijin!

An involuntary frown crosses Seija's face. She blinks, wondering where on Earth that throb of pain in her chest came from. Probably nothing, she convinces herself, and just doesn't respond.

As she takes a cursory glance back at Nue's shadow, she notices- her wings are drooping. There it is, she thinks helplessly, it's back again.

* * *

The feeling in Seija's gut still won't quit, and it's distracting. Even as she's clawing her way through security traps (the entrance to floor R column T was protected by a layer of ice as thick as her shoulders are wide, which, of course, meant that there's something good behind there) the nagging feeling won't go away. Seija focuses on the work, imagines narrowing her thoughts into the eye of a needle.

When she fumbles with the security on the first vault, and a trap closes on her index finger, she yelps into the void. _That's it,_ she thinks, and pulls her hand out, shaking the pain off. Her gloves are less bloody than last time, which is a plus, but she's trembling now, excess energy that refuses to be channeled. She sends Nue a message before she buzzes out.

**inverse-monarchy:** hey im gna buzz out real quick to pop a red  
**HeianAlien:** dude get it together! we gotta do this on the DOUBLE  
**inverse-monarchy:** idk whats goin on im just not focused enough ive been stuck on this loop of code and looking somewhere else for five minutes  
**HeianAlien:** that ain't like you.  
**inverse-monarchy:** listen im buzzin out i need a red and i need it now

One of Seija's greatest vices is her habit of doing drugs while she hacks. She recognizes that if she had never started, she would probably be so much more stable, but they admittedly improve her performance, so she keeps a bubble pack in her inside pockets whenever she does a job. The reds- uppers- keep her from drifting off, and can often help her untangle code that requires painstaking attention to detail. If she's too focused, she can forget about the big picture, which is what the blues are for. Now whenever shit gets distracting, she can eliminate that threat in a couple of minutes, but it's hard to obtain that intense focus without them.

She blinks out, opening her eyes- the light in the warehouse is ultraviolet, almost as ambient as it is in the medium. It startles her a bit, and when she turns around to pull the bubble pack out of her pocket, she sees Nue.

For real this time, in the flickering violet light. She's in color, albeit faded, and her deep red eyes are reflecting so much light that isn't even there, like laser pointers severing the darkness. Her wings twitch, the red knifelike appendages stretching out threateningly, as she looks off into some other distance. Something Seija's not seeing, something she's never been able to see. Her profile against the ambient blacklights is sharp, cut into the scenery like a paper silhouette.

There's something so puzzling about Nue, she thinks. How she was so willing to go along with Seija. How childish she is in their conversations, like she's just messing around in cyberspace with a _friend._ Seija's never had a friend before, besides Nitori, and Nitori's not around enough to even count. Nue is- the first person Seija doesn't really want to hate; she's so charming in a hugely frustrating way, and it's almost impossible to imagine herself _not_ being ticked off by the careless things she says, but for some reason the usually instinctive hatred response in amanojaku doesn't really work on Nue. She's playful, irreverent, but somehow also pointed and dangerous as hell, like she could punch a hole through your forehead with her index finger. Her movements are so sharp, so quick, the light sliding off the edge of a knife when you hold it to a lamp. Precise, poised, and terrifying.

Seija ends up buzzing back in without taking her ryth at all.

* * *

When she finally cuts through the last trap in the ice over the last vault, Seija lets out a whoop of satisfaction. Her fingers are aching, joints becoming stiff, and her mind is repeating lines of code that she doesn't even need to remember, but she breaks through and rips it out and nearly breaks her back trying to open the heavy door. Nue's shadow follows her, clinging to the side of the pounded metal, slipping inside the well-lit vault without a sound.

Seija tugs open the files, pulls out pages and pages of documentation. It's all condensed words to her right now, and she can't think of anything but_(void printarray (int arg[], int length) { for (int n=0; nlength; ++n)_ so she organizes them in piles of ten and opens a storage box, unzips the darkness to make room. Numbly, she presses the papers into the bottom of the box, closes the lid with one solid stroke, and watches as Nue pulls out her phone.

**inverse-monarchy:** you got em?  
**HeianAlien:** yeah! where are you gonna leave the footprint file!  
**inverse-monarchy:** probably in floor C, nowhere around here, i dont wanna be too obv about eientei gettin in here  
**HeianAlien:** you gonna leave that ice cracked like that?  
**inverse-monarchy:** i guess not i can try to piece it back just gotta follow my footsteps  
**inverse-monarchy:** time check  
**HeianAlien:** 4:38am  
**inverse-monarchy:** shit

This time, Seija's involuntary memory comes in handy- she remembers every syllable, every meaningless-looking operator as she splices back together the lines of code. She gently resets the traps, twists the strings of variables, creates the layer of hazards that coated the outside. Although it won't be exactly the same when trying to untangle it, it looks so similar from the surface that no one would be able to tell. She finishes up, tying a string to its source, and shakes out her aching hands.

**inverse-monarchy:** ok we got it im ready for outs  
**HeianAlien:** on your way you gotta reconnect the security thingies remember?  
**inverse-monarchy:** yeah yeah ik ik keep up houjuu  
**inverse-monarchy:** im stayin buzzed in for now dont wanna take any risks  
**inverse-monarchy:** you do what you usually do  
**HeianAlien:** roger that!  
**inverse-monarchy:** uh, also  
**HeianAlien:** ?  
**inverse-monarchy:** hows yr wing?  
**HeianAlien:**  
**HeianAlien:** a bit better  
**HeianAlien:** thanks for checking up on me !

Stunned for a brief moment, Seija only nods to that, then shoots downwards, footprint file in hand; on the way down, she presses the paper to the security gate outside floor C, grinning widely. It disappears after two seconds, and Seija nods, job done, and follows Nue down to the entry floor.

* * *

They're headed out to the back exit, where they came in three hours ago, and when Seija opens the door she feels a coldness on her skin- something strangely ethereal, almost mesmerizing, until she buzzes out and realizes it's still raining.

Outside, the clouded sky is thick with smog, the tiniest hint of illumination from below the Earth attempting to edge its way out. Seija takes a look at Nue's face, again, in the streetlight; she's drenched, hood up, wings hidden within the huge sweatshirt she wore in. Quietly, Nue pops a bubble of chewing gum, and then looks up at Seija with a satisfied smile.

"Damn," is all she says, her cheeks flushed with cold.

"Damn is right," Seija replies, nodding vaguely. She doesn't look Nue in the eyes, but she doesn't really need to.

* * *

_you're more daring this time- there, in the netherworld, buzzed in sitting on the crumbling columns of the myouren ruins. last time it was from the apartment, but you don't want to think about last time. this is the opportunity, the moment of decision you've waited for- hatate pined to go back even after she was nearly killed, and when you gathered the resolve to restart the expedition, hatate's smile was so wide it could have cracked the sky._

_this time, you carry a renewed sense of courage, a white-hot flame inside your ribcage. you're flying, next to hatate, through the bends and curves of the labyrinth. there's something ominous about this place, and it's not just the dust that's settled over a ruined meatspace myouren; it's a sense of foreboding, a fog thick and deep, that saturates everything, that makes your heart beat faster, your adrenaline levels shoot up. a strange feeling, something like paranoia- you're being followed, there's something immaterial here, something watching you, swift and perceptive as light, you're not safe- but you have always taken fear as a challenge rather than a hurdle._

_hatate looks giddy with suppressed, boiling excitement, distilling into rock-hard resolve in her eyes. you know this look; this is hatate's complete lack of fear for death. a pang of worry bursts at your chest, but you choose to ignore it. she looks so happy, you think, so liberated and fearless, that you forget the danger- and that's all it takes, before hatate stops abruptly._

_"aya," she whispers, her voice quivering suddenly, "someone is watching us."_

_she's more perceptive than you remember. your body goes cold. the blood rushes directly from your head down the column of your spine, and you feel it too. a presence, something surreal and all-encompassing, behind-_

_"aya!"_

_it's hatate's voice, high-pitched and terrified, the tone she uses when she sees something you don't. you whip around, only to glimpse it before they make contact- iridescent, glowing metal chains, burning when they touch your skin, dragging you down. your knees hit the ground before you know what's happening, and the pain is real and excruciating. the chains wrap themselves around your chest, your arms, and hot shackles close over your ankles and wrists._

_you start screaming. the links change color, slowly. the presence materializes, and you turn your head painfully to see hatate's wide eyes, half-open mouth as she backs away._

_"holy shit. that's..."_

_your blood runs completely cold. someone stands in front of you, holding the ends of your chains. she's tall, with long cascading hair, and her mouth is tight-lipped but her eyes are wavering. she looks majestic in the fog, a light emanating from her chest._

_"please forgive me," she says, and the echoes of her quiet, gentle voice fall from the labyrinth walls like fruit, "for the pain i am about to cause you."_

_she's turned to hatate as she says this. the aura around her is strong, suffocating. you struggle against your bindings, pushing your body forward against the burning shackles._

no,_ you think, _no, don't you dare go anywhere near hatate, i'll fight tooth and nail for her._ it's all in your thoughts, now, though- you're chained down to the ruins, and hatate's trembling, her legs are shaking as she backs away. something bright and blinding forms in the apparition's hands._

_"aya," hatate stammers, "that's her. the fourth AI."_

_your heart stops. you don't know how you couldn't see it- her presence is so commanding, mysterious, uncannily powerful. the light in her hands takes shape. a bow, almost as tall as the AI, pure and glowing._

_"it is necessary that i am not found out. please forgive me, but..."_

_"no," you whisper. "no."_

_"i must do this," she says. another light, from her chest, melding into something long and sharp. an arrow. hatate stops in her tracks, paralyzed. you struggle, strain, shout._

_"i'm sorry."_

_she strings the bow, and aims directly at hatate. you freeze, no longer fighting, and the light flies, a sheer straight beam of it, leaving a retina-searing trail behind as it splits the air and then pierces directly through hatate's ribcage._

_you scream. so loud you feel your ears ringing. hatate's eyes shoot open, and a cracked gasp falls from her lips before her knees give out and she collapses, body jerking on the marble floors, the crackling bolt of light still buried in her chest. the AI stares directly into you, and you feel her eyes passing over your desperation, as if taking it in._

_and then, unexpectedly, a tear falls from her cheek. rage bubbles inside you. she has no right to feel bad for you, this entity that killed your other half. hatate. hatate. hatate, she is broken and unmoving and dead. she is dead. she is gone. you jerk the chains, weakly, and you no longer feel them scalding your wrists. she is gone. hatate. hatate._

_her eyes flutter closed, for the last time. the AI brings her palms together. and then- and then- light, everywhere, engulfing you, burning every inch of you, you feel your bones break and vanish into ash. hatate. hatate. no. hatate._

_hatate._

_you buzz out._

_she is slumped over her rig, against the wall. between her lungs, a gaping hole, straight through her, blood running down the front of her shirt. her eyes are closed, here, too. she is dead, her strings cut. hatate._

_your whole body burns, from the inside out, scars forming over your bones. hatate is gone. she's not breathing. she's not moving. her heart, too, the wound gapes through it._

_wings broken, breathlessly, you cry._


End file.
